Sophie ran in front of Gray—or maybe hopped was more like it. She took each step as if she were a lion pouncing on its prey and claiming its domain. Though when she came down on the grass, you could barely see her. So small and so full of life. Gray looked up and let his eyes take in the backyard.
They were gone.
The grass still held the dented remains of where the trampoline and swing set had been. Apparently Jeremiah had put them in storage. Only the playhouse still stood, but without its bench and the array of outdoor toys that usually surrounded it.
Gray wished Jeremiah could take the playhouse down too. But he was sadly grateful for the gesture. If God dared to bless them with another child, Jeremiah would get the play equipment out again. But right now he didn’t want either him or Mack living with those looming reminders of what they had lost.
Gray had spent so much time out here with Maddie, pushing her on the swings, listening to her squeals of delight on the trampoline. He missed the sound of her voice, hated the painful silence that had settled over the mansion. Maddie and Mack used to fill the house with more words than a full set of encyclopedias held. Now Mack said almost nothing. The staff didn’t seem to know what to say either. If it weren’t for Eugenia, Gray thought he might go mad.
Sophie stopped when a butterfly swooped down to check her out. She instinctively backed toward him.
“It’s a butterfly, Sophie, not a pterodactyl.”
“Governor!”
The child’s voice pierced Gray’s insides. He and Sophie turned toward the thick garden of rosebushes and saw their little neighbor coming toward them, his head bouncing up and down as he ran. Gray felt his heart sink slightly. He was very fond of Oliver, who had shown such concern for the family and had even attended the funeral, his little face right there in the front-page photo. But he was also a reminder of what wasn’t and what would never be. Gray had wondered if someday his Maddie lady might marry Oliver. Now his presence just announced the reality that Maddie would never grow up to marry anybody.
But none of that was Oliver’s fault. Gray put on a smile. “How are you, buddy?”
The boy stopped in front of him, his curls strewn wildly about his head and his plaid shorts and blue shirt looking like he’d slept in them for the last two days. His breath came out in rapid bursts. “Sophie!” Oliver yelled when he caught sight of the puppy at Gray’s feet. Sophie bounced wildly in response.
Oliver dropped to his knees and scooped the dog up, her tongue dancing across his face. Gray’s heart melted at the child’s laughter. He squatted down and patted Oliver’s curls. He wanted desperately to wrap Oliver in his arms. To feel the warmth of a child. Any child.
Oliver raised his face up to Gray’s, his gray eyes big and bright. “I miss Maddie.”
The words stung. Badly. But Gray knew the little one had to be grieving too, and to tell the truth, he was grateful for a chance to talk about her. He sat on the thick grass. “I do too, buddy.”
“My mom says she’s not coming back.”
“I’m afraid that’s right.” He said it carefully, not sure what else Oliver’s parents had told him or what he was truly capable of understanding about death.
“Never?”
“Well, we get to see her again in heaven one day.”
Oliver scratched a red rash on his leg. The child got poison ivy more than anyone Gray knew. “My mom said that too. But heaven is real far away. I mean, I know Superman can get there and all, but I don’t want to wait until I get like Superman to be able to see Maddie again. We were going to have a lemonade stand, you know.”
Gray hadn’t heard about that. “You were, huh?”
“Yeah, right outside the gate. We were going to make us a load. I need a new baseball glove, and she wanted to buy a dog.” Oliver stopped as if he had realized something. “You think that’s why she went on to heaven? ’Cause she already got her a dog and now she didn’t need any money? You think she forgot I still needed my glove?”
Gray could only wish for such a simple truth. “I can assure you she didn’t forget about your glove. And I’m sure that’s not why she went.” Gray ran his hand through the grass. “I just know it’s going to be lonely without her.”
“Well, I’ll keep coming to see ya. I’m pretty good comp’ny.”
Gray smiled. “You sure are. I’ve loved your visits.”
Oliver stood, making it clear the conversation was over as far as he was concerned. He patted Sophie on the head and started singing one of his recently composed ditties as he danced back to his house. The child didn’t need an audience. The world was clearly his stage.
He turned back as if remembering something.
“Governor!” That’s what Oliver had called him since they’d moved in. And it came out determined, with each syllable getting its own emphasis. “I learned a new French word.”
“You did, huh?”
“Yep. Wanna hear?”
“Love to.”
“l learned how to say puppy.”
Gray sat up straighter in the grass. “Really? Well, you’ve got to let me hear that.”
Oliver turned his nose up as well as any Frenchman Gray had ever encountered. “Poopy.” He said it as if he were versed enough to teach the language himself.
Gray smiled. “That is awesome, Oliver. You’re amazing, you know.”
“I know,” Oliver said as he took off through the sea of roses.
Gray heard a chuckle. He turned to see Jeremiah behind him.
“Quite a chil’, ain’t he?”
Gray looked toward Oliver’s disappearing form. “Yeah, sweet kid.” He sensed Jeremiah’s weight shift as he came closer and felt Sophie’s excitement escalate at the new presence. “I haven’t thanked you, Jeremiah.” Gray turned his face back toward the gardener. A couple of inmates’ orange jumpsuits caught his eye across the lawn.
“Don’t need to thank me for nothin’, Gov’nor. I be doin’ what I love, and I just grateful I can do it at all.”
Gray felt a lump rise hard and fast in the base of his throat. “Not for this. For Maddie’s grave. I know what you did. Thank you for taking care of our baby.”
Jeremiah bent over and dug his index finger and thumb into the base of Sophie’s neck. Her little head leaned in hard for the attention. “I did what my heart be achin’ to do.”
“My heart aches too, Jeremiah.” His words came out vulnerable in Jeremiah’s paternal presence. “At times I feel like I’m not going to be able to catch my breath. I need to work, but I just want to be here. Wish I could get past this grief.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “Grief ain’t sump’n you wanna rush. It be God’s way a helpin’ us get out the pain. He know if we ain’t got some way to get it all out, we gon’ explode. So he give us grief, give us tears. All them things we need to get it out.”
Gray brushed at tears that had slipped down his cheeks. “It’s never going to be the same again. That is what’s so hard for me to wrap my mind around. I’m never going to see her again—not here anyway. And life is never going to be the same.”
Jeremiah lowered himself all the way to the grass. Sophie jumped on top of his green overalls. “You right. Ain’t ever gon’ be the same again. Gon’ be different the rest a your life. But you gon’ be different too. Better, maybe.” He shifted Sophie in his lap. “You strong, Gov’nor. Gentle, but strong.”
Gray shook his head. “I don’t feel strong.”
“Strong don’t mean lack a pain. Strong mean livin’ spite of it.”
Gray blew out hard, trying to relieve some of the tension that had built up in his chest. “What do I do with Mack? It’s like she doesn’t even want to live.”
Jeremiah thought a minute. “Out here, when some a my flowers go and get diseased, I hafta start doctorin’ ’em all up. And some, it like they be beggin’ me to take the sick from ’em so they can get on with life. But others just want me doin’ what need be done, then leave ’em alone. Grief don’t always look the s
ame, y’know. Miz Mackenzie ain’t gon’ do it the way you do.”
Gray let out a soft laugh and wiped his face again. “You got that right.” He reached over and pried Sophie loose from Jeremiah’s pocket button, which she had been chewing intently.
“Just let her grieve however she need to right now. And give it time, ’cause ever’thing still fresh.”
“Well, I suspect you’re right.” Gray tucked Sophie under his arm and got to his feet. He reached a hand down to help the older man up. Jeremiah took his hand and rose with ease.
“We ain’t gon’ let her go, Gov’nor. Gon’ fight long and hard for her. And we gon’ get her back. She gon’ bloom again.” He patted Gray’s arm. “And you gon’ too.”
“Thank you, Jeremiah. I needed to hear that. All of it.”
Jeremiah dipped his head again, and Gray turned toward the house. He looked up to see Mack’s face in the window. She never saw him.
He could only hope that someday she’d see him again.
I seen me lots a grief in my day. I seen growed men stripped from they families and weepin’ like chil’rens. I seen evil and pain so deep and dark and thick, it take years for some to dig they way out. Knowed my own share a troubles too. Bad troubles.
But this here be different. Maybe ’cause my heart gone and got so ’vested in Miz Mackenzie and the gov’nor and all. And maybe ’cause my heart done spread so wide and took in all that love sweet Maddie brought down here for us to know. Or maybe ’cause she so li’l and innocent. But chil’rens—chil’rens s’posed to be safe. Live long and old.
This kind a trouble make you feel sure God done lost all his good sense. Like he ain’t watchin’. And we all feelin’ that ’round here.
Miz Mackenzie, she not gettin’ any better. Fact, she gone and made herself sick. Pale’s a ghost and can’t eat nothin’, Rosa say. Then she caught a bad cold, and now she throwin’ up all the time. Maybe got the flu or sump’n. They callin’ the doctor in today to check on her.
But ’nother bad part, it just keep Miz Eugenia ’round. Can’t get rid a that lady for nothin’. And you’d think, with all this cryin’ and grievin’ and sadness, she be more quiet. Not her. She incapable. Just chewin’ the fat all the time.
That woman got more words in her than one a them word-processin’ machines. And them words, they so know-it-all. Even now, with all she needs to be focusin’ on, Eugenia always gots to find a way to focus on me and what I doin’. I seen her the other day out here messin’ with my hydrangeas. Had me a good mind to go and sock her—and I ain’t never socked no woman in my ’tire life. Beat me a good man a time or twos, but ain’t never socked no woman. Shirley woulda had my hide.
But this one. Lord, you gon’ have to help me, ’cause I think I’m gon’ lose what left a my good mind. She just always on that last nerve.
I know I been prayin’ me some selfish prayers lately. Ain’t selfish to pray for Miz Mackenzie’s healin’ and all. But her healin’ gon’ get that crazy lady outta this house faster. And God help me, I be prayin’ for that too.
Chapter 22
“Mackenzie Quinn London, I know you’re sick, but you’ve got to eat something anyway. You’re practically skin and bones as it is, and you’ll never get over this whatever-it-is without some nourishment.”
Mackenzie stood in the closet staring at her clothes. “Mama, I’m serious. I can’t. The mere thought of food makes me sick.” She wiped her nose with a Kleenex.
Eugenia threw herself down on the ottoman. “I give up. I didn’t know I could be worn down, but you have officially worn me down.”
“Thank the Lord,” Mackenzie whispered. It was as close to a prayer as she had spoken in weeks.
“I heard that. You may have worn me down, but I can still hear.”
Mackenzie faced her mother, her voice flat. “Mother, I’m in the closet looking at my own clothes. This moment holds the potential of me actually getting myself dressed. I would think we have made huge progress. So I would appreciate it if you would surrender the drama. I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m incapable of surrendering drama. I’m from the South. We created drama. To surrender it would be to amputate a limb. And I’m fond of myself.”
“You’re full of yourself too,” Mackenzie said. As soon as the words came out, she felt a churning in her gut again. It was intense and rising quickly.
She ran past her mother and flung herself across the commode. The orange juice Eugenia had pushed on her at breakfast burned as it came up. She would never drink orange juice again.
She heard her mother at the sink, water running. As Mackenzie leaned over her new porcelain friend, she realized that the sickness had at least gotten her mobile again. For the last week she had been scurrying from the bed to the toilet, from her chair to the toilet. If her limbs had been about to atrophy before, she was well on her way to becoming a track runner now.
The thought fluttered across her mind again—the same crazy thought she’d been playing with for days. She had flung it away at first. It was crazy. It would be too hopeful. And yet it kept coming back, teasing her.
A wet rag came softly against her forehead. She reached up and patted her mother’s hand. “Thanks, Mama.”
Eugenia kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome, baby. I’m sorry you’re suffering like this. We’ll trust the doctor will let us know what’s wrong. He was pretty confident it was your nerves or some bug, but I’m not letting him out of here today until he tells me what’s wrong with you. You’ve probably contracted some horrible intestinal virus because of that gardener and some mutant species of flower he’s brought you, or because of some crazy Mexican thing Rosa has made you eat.”
Mackenzie felt the nausea subside and sat on the stone floor. Her breast brushed against the toilet, and that familiar pain was there again. “There is nothing wrong with Jeremiah’s flowers, Mother. He is a fabulous gardener. And Rosa’s a wonderful cook. Now hush and help me get dressed.”
Eugenia jerked the wet washcloth from Mackenzie’s forehead and took her good arm to help her up. The cast on her right arm still had another four good weeks. “It’s not nice to tell your mother to hush.”
Mackenzie headed back into the closet while Eugenia stood in the doorway. “It’s not nice to torment your daughter when she’s throwing up.” She used her good arm to sort through her clothing, her eyes settling on the comfortable clothing of the last several weeks. But she resisted the urge and chose a brown cotton wrap dress. She tugged at the sleeve of the dress, trying to pull it over her cast.
Eugenia laid the washcloth down on the dirty clothes hamper and came to her rescue, successfully getting her arm through. “I put a cold rag on your head; don’t forget that.”
Mackenzie’s head was pounding. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
“If you have typhoid fever, I promise the good Lord above that I am firing Rosa and you will only eat what I cook.”
Mackenzie simply shook her head as she went to stand in front of the mirror. Everything about her looked foreign. Her eyes. Her skin. Her drawn face. She had probably lost twenty pounds in the last six weeks, and this wasn’t helping.
“You should put a little makeup on,” Eugenia offered.
Mackenzie pulled her hair back in a ponytail and sat at her bathroom counter. “I look horrible, Mama. Have you seen these dark circles under my eyes?”
Eugenia walked over and took the concealer from her hands, then began to dab it underneath her eyes. “You’ve been through a time, baby girl. I’m proud that you are dressed and have clean hair. Today we will celebrate that.”
Mackenzie let her mother dab some blush on her cheeks, color on her lips, and mascara on her eyelashes; then she walked to her familiar spot by the window. And as she looked outside, she realized that for one brief moment she had forgotten. For one brief moment in that closet, trying to find a dress, she had let go of that day six weeks ago that had brought her life to a screeching halt.
I
t was only a moment, though, because it was all back now—every piece of it. The blood, the broken window, the smell of gas, the reaching hands. The white figure on the pavement . . .
The green grass blurred into an ocean before her.
“I’ll come back when the doctor gets here.”
Mackenzie nodded but never turned. The doctor. He was coming because she was sick. But perhaps she wasn’t. This felt . . . different. And familiar. And if what she was thinking was true, she didn’t know how she was going to feel about that. She kept teetering between joy and terror, unable to land on either.
“She’s in here, Doctor.” She heard her mother’s voice through the door. She looked up to see Thad Tyler following her mother into the room. “And take it in. She’s dressed in real clothes. We’re believing this is going to be a daily occurrence now.”
Thad gave her mother a kind smile, then saved them both. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Quinn. Do you mind if I check Mackenzie out alone?”
Eugenia gave him a look. A Eugenia look. “That’s my baby girl over there, Doctor. I hear her scream one time, and I’ll be in here quicker than you can say stethoscope.”
Mackenzie wasn’t sure if that was fear or humor she saw in Thad’s eyes. Eugenia pointed two fingers from one hand at her eyes, then back at the doctor. That this was a grown woman often amazed Mackenzie.
“Mother. Go.”
Eugenia walked backward to the door and finally out, leaving them alone.
“I came from that,” Mackenzie said.
Thad chuckled. “You’ve been through a lot. She’s just worried about you.”
Mackenzie shifted in the chair. “I’m thinking you’re about to do a checkup on the wrong person.”
He shook his head and grinned. “I’ve known your family a long time, Mackenzie. And I don’t think I’m the right kind of doctor for her.” He pulled the ottoman from the edge of her chair and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Now, tell me how you’re feeling.”
The First Gardener Page 14
